


What We Become

by WyattShepard



Series: Fallout 4 [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 20:56:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyattShepard/pseuds/WyattShepard





	What We Become

            Leslie stepped from the train station and let the warm sunlight shine on her for a moment. She stretched lazily and sighed.

            “Anyone ever tell you that you look like a cat sometimes?” The voice behind her held genuine curiosity within its words. Leslie smirked and turned to her companion.

            “Only once but nice of you to notice,” she responded.

            “Because you looked like a cat just now,” Carlee continued as the pair began to walk to the road that lead away from the Nuka-World train station.

Leslie didn’t know why they had become such close friends in such short time, but was glad they had. Carlee was a Brotherhood Scribe, or had been; her duties when she was with Leslie were vastly different then when she went on missions without her. When she was with Leslie for example, she didn’t worry nearly as much when she wasn’t with her. With Leslie there was not a need to double-check the magazine’s to make sure they had enough ammo, Leslie did that before the mission. She didn’t have to worry in battle, because Leslie had taught her to be calm in battle. She didn’t have to think about dying that day, because Leslie was literally her own Angel of Death. She had watched as the woman slaughtered a gunner battalion of at least twenty-one men once, and all of it was to win a bet. Afterwards Leslie had commented that it was ‘totally worth the two-hundred caps’ McCready had given her when the fighting was over.

Of course the Brotherhood didn’t send her off without any support, and thus Leslie was assigned Carlee, so that hopefully they would watch each other’s backs and whenever Leslie found a good piece of tech, Carlee would be there to record and retrieve it. The plan had worked flawlessly and the two had become thick as thieves in no time at all.

“So are you going to report to the Prydwen right away or are we stopping anywhere first,” Carlee asked as she noticed some blood on her goggles and began cleaning them with her shirt. Leslie was clicking through her Pip-Boy as she answered.

“Uh, I am pretty sure we should report directly to the Elder. Maxon would want to know I have control over the raider gangs in Nuka-World,” she clicked through the tabs while talking. Carlee finished with the goggles and strapped them back to her forehead.

“You’re probably right,” she trailed off before adding tentatively “Can we talk now?” Carlee saw the survivor’s whole body go rigid for a moment before relaxing again.

“About what?” Cold and short. The scribe pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Danse, Leslie. I know that mission hurt you, fuck I wouldn’t even have been able to do what you did,” Carlee said with concern in her words. After all, she suspected that Leslie’s decision to investigate Nuka-World had been to get away from the Brotherhood and Maxon. The timing had been perfect for it, anyways.

“What’s to talk about? He was a synth threatening everything I’ve fought for,” she paused “everything _we’ve_ fought for, Carls.” Leslie took a blue cylinder from her pack.

“I don’t regret what I have done for the Brotherhood. The only thing I regret is letting it get so bad,” a small trail streaked down her left cheek followed by a second on the right.

“If I had found out earlier maybe I could,” she suddenly stopped cold, enough to make Carlee look over at her in alarm. The scribe pretended not to notice as she wiped the tears from her honey-colored eyes.

“It’s done. The Brotherhood is safer because of that fact,” She stated coldly as she popped the tab on the vertibird signal grenade and tossed it to the ground.

 _“Les,”_ The scribe thought sadly. The friends sat in silence for a moment listening to the hiss of the grenade and watching the red smoke rise into the air. The humming of propellers could be heard in the distance. Their ride pulled up and landed in front of them. The Knight manning the minigun casually leaned on it as he tipped his hat to the pair.

“Evening ladies. You two lookin’ to catch a ride,” he asked offering a hand to Leslie and then to Carlee. When both of them were in the vertibird and had their seatbelts on, the Lancer glanced at them from the cockpit.

“Where to, Sentinel?” She met his goggled face evenly.

“I want to stop by Sanctuary before we return to the Prydwen. I just remembered something I have to do there. The Lancer nodded and turned back to his controls as the propellers began spinning up. Carlee gave her a curious glance but Leslie only smirked slightly to her in response.

The vertibird glided over the landscape smoothly and reached the small settlement in under ten minutes. Leslie glanced up from her Pip-Boy when they touched down and the engines died down.

“Nine minutes, that’s a new record. What’s your name Lancer,” the survivor asked patting the back of his chair.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” he sounded pleased but kept his face neutral “and the name is Amare.” She nodded at that.

“Good man, Amare. Ad Victoriam,” she said, hopping from the aircraft after Carlee.

“Ad Victoriam,” both soldiers responded as the engines whirled back up and they pulled away from the settlement. Leslie turned after they had left and found that Preston wasn’t waiting behind her.

 _“Strange, he’s normally so punctual when I come by vertibird,”_ she thought to herself and began to search for him. It didn’t take long to find him on one of his normal patrols through the surrounding woods.

“Preston,” she called as she ran up to him. The man glanced towards her for a moment and she saw something flash across his face, something dark and vile reminding her of hatred. Just as quick as it had appeared it was gone, replaced with a curious look.

“What are you doing back here,” he asked as he turned fully to her.

“What do you mean? You asked me to help you retake the Castle, remember,” She answered. He almost looked like he hadn’t heard anything she said, or perhaps what she said had taken away his voice. After a couple seconds he frowned at her and took his hat off.

“Yeah, before I knew you were the Overboss. How could you let all those innocent people suffer while you played queen? I thought you were a better person then that, but I was wrong,” He said, shaking his head at her.

            “Preston, you seem to have it all wrong here,” Leslie started to explain.

“Oh do I? He shot back with cold venom. Her breath was nearly taken away, but she managed to keep composed and respond.

“Nuka-World? It isn’t what you think, I wasn’t doing it for-” He cut her off with two cranks to his laser musket.

“I trusted you once, never again.” She saw it in his eyes: he would not repeat himself.

“Preston, please just hear her out,” Carlee said softly “Our orders were to-” He leveled the laser musket on the scribe.

“Leave, if I ever see either of you again I will not be so merciful.” Leslie stepped in front of his rifle, grabbed the barrel and pushed the gun to the middle of her chest.

“Don’t make claims that you won’t keep,” She hissed through clenched teeth. His finger wavered for a moment before the rifle was lowered.

“Just leave, both of you. Now,” He said as he turned away from them. Carlee thought she saw his shoulders shaking but before she could say anything Leslie was dragging her by the wrist back to the wooden bridge at the front of the settlement.

“Les, you can’t just leave it like this. Weren’t you two friends once,” the scribe asked.

“No, he’s right. I have done horrible things to get those gangs under my control. Things that any general of the minutemen would have not even considered. It’s better that we leave before either side spills blood,” she explained as she continued to drag the protesting woman behind her. Before they could leave however, Jun Long stepped from behind one of the houses next to the bridge.

“Oh, hey Jun, long time no see,” Leslie said, slowly approaching the man.

“Here, you should take this back,” he said throwing a baseball cap at her feet. Leslie realized with a sinking feeling that the cap had been his son’s that she had returned to him from Quincy after she purged the gunners still holding out there.

“Jun, please,” she pleaded with him but he turned away.

“Guess they were right: you were too good to be true,” he finished and walked away, leaving the pair alone. Carlee lost count of how long they stood there, but eventually Leslie slowly picked the cap off the ground, turned around, and began walking over the bridge. The scribe followed silently as her companion popped a second vertibird signal grenade from her belt and tossed it ahead of them.


End file.
